


Touch and Go

by EnglishLanguage



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst and Feels, Asexual Sam Flynn, Clu is a creep, Exposition AU, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, It's complicated for him tho lol, No sex in the story itself, Other, Platonic Kissing, Queerplatonic Relationships, That's just how it be, The Talk, and Tron needs help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 23:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18158327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglishLanguage/pseuds/EnglishLanguage
Summary: A continuation of the Exposition AU- in which Clu doesn't manage to lose track of a valuable prisoner in a matter of hours, so Sam and Tronzler actually get to spend some time together.In other words, Sam tries to explain to Tron that kissing is different from sex.





	Touch and Go

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno you guys... I think Clu gave off the creepiest vibe in Legacy, so I'm just going with that. Also, I like to make things more difficult for Tron.
> 
> And honestly, if I'm going to make any sort of relationship between Sam and Tron, it's got to actually start somewhere (I'm looking at you, Legacy movie. We didn't get to see a single positive interaction between those two).

He’s curious. “Do programs not… kiss?”

There’s a delicacy in the way Rinzl- _Tron_ cocks his head to the side, innocent and with ridiculous resemblance to Marv’s forlorn confusion whenever Sam’s a second late feeding the brat. It’s both stupidly endearing and saturated with implications that Sam isn’t prepared to deal with.

“Invalid. ParR-rr-amet-t-ter-rs of action un-nspecified.”

For the love of- _programs don’t kiss._

He figures it has something to do with the circuits. Sam is a user; he's lived in two worlds. He remembers how it feels not to have those broad, glowing stripes patterned on his skin, and- glitch it all- knows how _uncomfortably_ sensitive circuits are compared to a lack of them. It makes sense that, if the programs already come equipped with a combination of circuits and humanoid biology, they hardly have a need for kissing to express any sort of… endearment.

Well- that’s a euphemism.

Sam thinks back to the scene that sparked his curiosity in the first place- he only caught the tail end of it. He’s not sure why the kissing thing stood out to him, of all things. Maybe because the lack of kissing seemed so coarse, so inhuman? Humans, users, _whatever_ they’re called, seem to have a certifiable obsession with swapping spit as compared to programs. On that note, it _is_ really strange that humans express attraction using their mouths. Stupidly unsanitary…

“ _User-Rr. Spe-ecify par-r-ameters of action.”_

“You’re rattling again, man. Relax.” On one hand, Sam wishes he’d paid something more than a sham of attention to Alan’s ‘birds and bees.’ Sure, the older man had always been a step behind Sam in terms of protecting him from the world, but Alan had, undeniably and inexplicably, cared. Whenever Sam had bothered to clean himself up and visit Alan’s apartment, the guy had been genuinely invested in Sam’s life. That dedication paired with the programmer’s poise and eloquence meant Sam had probably missed out on an epic Sex Talk. Shame- it’d be a convenient reference now.

On the other hand, the awkwardness of adolescent sexuality isn’t exactly a problem in their situation.

“Mm… kissing.” The word clicks against his pharynx; elongates into a hiss that slips over his tongue in a smooth glissade. Ironically, it doesn’t so much as skate his lips, and therein lies the difference between tongue work and _tongue work_. “It’s when you touch another person with your lips. To express…” Lust. “Love. Or affection.”

Tron lurches up onto his heels, hands flexing suddenly. “Tha-at-aAat is degr-rR-r-a-a-ading.” Aw, heck, the growl’s gotten _worse,_  and Sam has to remember that the program in front of him is a corroded mess that could gut him in a second...

“Whoa, easy there, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Tron’s eyebrows affect a steep and sullen cant, fists clenching around the intensity of his vocal glitch. His black-gloved hands are white-knuckled around nothing, inflexibly constricted and jagged across the starkly arrayed apexes of his knuckles. This Tron, as Sam knows him, is only a crooked, feral facet of the legendary system monitor who he worshipped throughout his childhood.

In spite of this, Tron, as Sam knows him, has always upheld an impressive measure of self-discipline, even dignity… Tron walks a step behind Clu with mordant confidence, even grovels with subtle, mocking reticence. Right now, though, the wretched frustration that contorts his body is _nothing_ of Tron.

It’s entirely Rinzler.

Heck, this program tried to kill him (there's really no forgetting that, for all that Sam doesn't blame him) and it still _breaks_ Sam’s heart to see Tron so traumatized, reduced into a snapping, snarling wreck.

It would be so much easier to just try not to care, but Sam (story of his life) refuses to shy away. “You can’t knock it until you try it, bud.”

The acrid rawness that pervades the program’s responding glare is two parts disbelief and one part ‘don’t you dare mock me;’ essentially, Sam is _just_ on the right side of overstepping his bounds.

“ _Deg-r-r-RaD-ding_. Us-s-ed to give plea-asurr-Rr-re.” Tron’s inhalations crackle with a rancid, waterlogged quality. The exhaled words are even more guttural, underscored by that absurd, ticking snarl that vibrates Tron’s entire body in minute spasms and hitches. “I-in-nter-r-RrrRR-fa-cing.”

Oh, man. Yeah, they’re doing this.

Sam estimates he’s seen about half of what goes down between Clu and Tron, and again- that is distinctly not _kissing_. Beyond hypothesizing about programs not really needing to kiss, he’d also wondered if the lack of it was all Clu’s psychopathy: a staunch rejection of the emotional ramifications of making out with one’s victim. If programs really don’t know what kissing is, though, the absence of it is likely all ignorance. That brings him back to his first conjecture.

That brings him back to Tron, who still doesn’t know what kissing is, and seems to assume it’s just another sexual activity.

“Tron. Hey, Tron; shhh… listen to me. Let me explain.” By all that is still good in life, if he can manage to salvage this for Tron, he’ll submit to a slow death under Clu’s hands with total satisfaction. Relatively speaking. “‘S alright, okay? Shh… you’re alright. You’ve… ah… misunderstood the parameters of the action. That’s all. Just listen to me. Listen…”

Tron subsides into an irate growl, the sound swollen with anticipation of pain, or maybe betrayal. He falls back onto the ground, too, like he’s too tired to hold himself up for any longer.

“That’s it, Tron… calm down. Kissing- it’s not supposed to hurt you. It should never hurt you.” Intellectually, he’s aware of this. Realistically, for him, consent has always been a technicality at best, and a scarce luxury in worst-case scenarios. Sam’s experience with kissing- and it’s a unique experience, as proof of credibility goes- has been a study in possession and domination. Kissing is carnal, obscene, combative- nothing more, but often less.

Kissing, apparently, has not yet been corrupted in the Grid, and he can work with that. Kissing…

“It’s how you show someone that you love them.”

He builds his explanations on a timid flutter of fragmented memories: his dad’s lips on his forehead, his Gram pecking his cheek with a loud smack. He remembers pure love and sets it far apart from lust.

“And love is… huh.”

Sam has no doubt that most programs understand love. He isn’t so sure about Rinzler.

“Love is when you care about another person; it’s when you create a- a bond that’s powerful enough and important enough that when the person you love is happy, you’re happy, too. And when they’re hurting, you hurt with them. Love makes you want to do anything and everything in your power to protect that person.”

“Physica-al par-r-rameters?”

“Hm? You mean- of kissing?” There’s legitimate interest in the forward lean of Tron’s body, and Sam really begins to wonder if the program is, in any way, capable of deception. It’d be straight-up hilarious if he isn’t, and possibly one of the most wholesome things Sam has ever come across… and in the most depraved circumstances, at that.

He also notes Tron’s gaze as oddly downcast, and if _that_ is sheepishness, Tron wears the expression sharp and with a scowl. Typical of him.

“Physically… you place your lips on another person, and generate friction.” It’s a technical, barebones definition, and he hopes Tron appreciates that. There’s also an adequate level of difference between Sam's definition of the act and Clu’s demands of Tron. He’s totally got control of this situation, _he can do this..._

In defense of his extremely forthright promotion of kissing as a platonic demonstration of affection, he's constantly plagued with the desire to plant his lips on Tron’s forehead. The program needs the comfort, despite Tron's limited capacity to acknowledge that need. It's fine- Sam can acknowledge it for him, and has done so ever since the day he first witnessed Clu lay a hand on the program. It’s empathy: a nagging urge to soothe away the agitation that constantly striates Tron’s face.

“Normally, it’s contact from mouth to mouth.”

Tron exhales the remnants of a growl; sinks into the haphazard fold of his body and contortion of his limbs.

“So- Tron. Have you ever… with Clu?” There’s still that slightest itch of curiosity in his head, and he wants to make sure.

“Not… kissing.” The rigid timbre of Tron’s voice is deliberate and takes obvious effort to sustain, but his words don’t stutter. Stiffly twined around himself, Tron is a few feet and a trenchant glower short of the warrior Sam has come to fear and respect, but there exists an echo of pride and determined elegance in his determination to just speak normally.

Tron is striking. It’s all in the sleek and calculated manner of his movements; the horror of his lethal and faceless hatred.

Tron is striking in that he has been so clearly tortured, debased, made into an animal and an object- and yet retains the capacity and motivation to fight for any scrap of dignity.

The program stands in a sudden movement; unfairly fluid for how long he’s been sitting, more than cross-legged and totally hunched over. And it's strange, because Tron isn't usually the one to cross the unmentioned separation between them, that a metaphysical barrier of wariness and basic deference that roughly divides their cell in half. But what is typical doesn't stop Tron, nor does any indication of Sam’s skyrocketing wariness, until the program resettles himself at Sam’s feet, crouched uncomfortably close.

The immediate tension between them is ridiculous. Sam is certain it’s all Tron’s doing, if only for the distinctly blunt and unceremonious cast to the emotion. That; and he thinks he can _sense_ the power coiled in the curve of Tron’s calves and thighs; the muffled thrum of energy blazing through brutalized circuitry, all tangible evidence of some bloated apprehension on the program’s part.

Tron’s eyes flick to the ground in a fraction of a second’s warning...

“-Mmph!”

Crap. He forgot to address the _romantic_ significance of mouth on mouth.

 

* * *

 

It’s the first time that Sam has held the tatters of someone's innocence in his hands, and the first time he’s been given the choice to destroy or to shield such an intimate aspect of another person. _Usually, he’s on the other end of an interaction like this, and it never ends well.._.

Tron doesn’t recoil from the touch on his lips. He rocks back on his heels with a muted hum and softly satisfied eyes.

 


End file.
